


If we only die once (I want to live with you)

by RandomSlasher (Randomslasher)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomslasher/pseuds/RandomSlasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just hang on," he says, and his voice cracks again. There's something wet on his face but he doesn't know if it's the rain (is it raining? It feels like it should be raining, like the heavens should be pouring out their sorrow because even they can't face the thought of losing their brightest star) or blood or tears and it doesn't matter because nothing matters, nothing at all matters apart from the ceaseless litany of <i>Poe, Poe, Poe.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	If we only die once (I want to live with you)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme: 
> 
> Based on this fanart http://emb-art.tumblr.com/post/139198459580/i-create-my-own-suffering
> 
> Poe is seriously injured, he's bleeding out fast and Finn is waiting for help to arrive but they're not coming fast enough and he's crying and freaking out, and Poe is the voice of comfort and reason like he always is which only makes Finn even madder because HE should be the one trying to comfort Poe, not the other way around. Just.....lots of angst/comfort/friendship
> 
> (Would rather if Poe doesn't actually die, but it's a near thing.) 
> 
>  
> 
> Title borrowed from Something I Need by OneRepublic
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta, Thuri

* * *

Finn has seen death before. 

He's seen wounds that kill people quickly and he's seen wounds that are slow, methodical, and insidious, but equally fatal. He's seen pilots incinerated by explosions mid-flight; he's seen blasters cut people down and lightsabers cut them in half. He's seen friends gasp out their last in front of him as their lifeblood seeps into the uncaring ground, or pools, slow and inexorable, across the cold metal gleam of a starship floor. 

He's seen death, and he's seen suffering. Hell, he's even caused his fair share of it. 

But this. This is different. 

Poe is smiling at him. It looks wrong, with blood trickling out of the side of his mouth and smeared across his chin, but he's doing it. His eyes (Force save him, Poe's eyes) are soft and gentle as ever, with those friendly crinkles at the edges, and Finn doesn't know where the air went but it's not here, and it's not finding its way into his lungs because _Poe is dying_ and Finn doesn't know what to _do_. 

"Easy, buddy," the blood bubbles on Poe's lips as the words escape. He shouldn't be talking, Finn realizes belatedly. 

"You shouldn't--you shouldn't be talking." Was that him? He'd never heard his voice like that before, high-pitched and fragile and sharp, like it might shatter at any moment and shred him into ribbons. "Save your strength." 

Poe's still smiling, _damn him_ why is he smiling, he shouldn't be smiling because things are bad, like _really_ bad, and if Poe's smiling it's because he knows it and this is his way of saying goodbye. 

Finn can't look at that thought--it's too bright, too painful to contemplate. He shifts slightly, adjusting the pressure on the wound on Poe's chest and _where the hell was med evac already_? 

"Just hang on," he says, and his voice cracks again. There's something wet on his face but he doesn't know if it's the rain (is it raining? It feels like it should be raining, like the heavens should be pouring out their sorrow because even they can't face the thought of losing their brightest star) or blood or tears and it doesn't matter because nothing matters, nothing at all matters apart from the ceaseless litany of _Poe, Poe, Poe._

"Buddy," Poe rasps, and his hand settles onto Finn's, over where Finn is trying to keep the precious lifeblood from spilling onto the sands. "Buddy. Don't cry." 

Tears, then, they must be tears, because of course it isn't raining, they're in the desert and Finn doesn't believe rain has ever fallen here, but he thinks the skies might just open up if Poe--if he--

The thought is too abhorrent to finish. 

His radio crackles to life at his chest. "Finn? Poe? Sit tight, we've got you on our sensors. We're almost there, ETA"--static, a crackle--"...tes. Repeat, ETA five minutes." 

"Five minutes," Finn chokes, and sobs, hunching over, because Poe will be gone in five minutes. He'll be gone in two or maybe three, and in five minutes the resistance will find Finn cradling the body of their best pilot but Poe will be _gone,_ gone for good, and no one will ever be able to change that. 

"Hey, hey," Poe's whispering, and Finn leans close to hear him because if these are the last things Poe is ever going to say, Finn wants to inscribe them onto his heart and keep them there. "Really, buddy, it's okay." 

"Poe, please," Finn's not even sure what he's asking for. Time is something they don't have and he knows that; knows not to beg Poe for more of it when it's not something Poe can give him, but he can't help it. "Please, _please_." 

"Gonna be a'right," Poe whispers, and Finn realizes suddenly Poe isn't talking about himself, he's talking about _Finn._

"No, no, no," Finn moans, clutching at Poe's shirt and curling around him, over him, wishing he could wrap his body around Poe's and shelter him and keep him warm and safe and alive. He's sobbing now, loud hacking noises that tear straight out of his chest and echo across the frigid desert night. "Please, Poe, _please_." 

"Proud of you, buddy, you know it?" Poe's grinning at him now, his eyes half-hooded, and Finn hates these words more than any Poe has ever uttered because he knows what they mean. These words are goodbye. 

"Don't," Finn begs him, as Poe lifts a weak, bloody hand and cups Finn's cheek. "Please, Poe--please _don't_." 

"Shh, shh, Finn. Shh. Don't cry." Poe pats his cheek once, softly. Then his hand drops, his eyes flutter closed, and his whole body shudders and goes still, so very _still._ Finn holds his breath and watches, waiting, for Poe's chest to rise again. 

It does, but it's too long in coming. Each new breath is too long in coming and Finn knows they are nearing the last. 

He curls his body over Poe's, clutching him, pressing his brow against Poe's and rocking a little. "Please," he whispers. "Please, Poe, _please._ " 

"Love you, buddy." If Finn hadn't been as close as he was, he wouldn't have heard the words, for they are nearly silent, carried on a whisper of a breath as it escapes Poe's breast. Finn watches, and watches, and watches, but there is no rise of Poe's chest, no ghost of an inhale across his lips, nothing. His eyes are closed and his face is pale in the starlight, Finn's tears leaving trails like threadbare silver ribbons across Poe's frozen cheeks. 

"No, no, _no_ ," Finn moans, the sound rising in his grief until it tears out of him in an agonized, wordless wail. 

The faint sound of engines racing across the landscape barely registers, and only when they are right on top of him does he realize the resistance has finally arrived. They are minutes too late, but it may as well have been hours, because Poe is _gone_ , he's gone forever and no one is ever going to be able to find him and bring him back. 

The medics arrive and drag Finn aside (it takes three of them to pry Finn away from Poe's limp body) and Finn watches with a deadened heart as they start to work, ripping aside fabric and shouting at each other as injections and bandages things Finn doesn't understand are applied to the body of his friend. He watches, blankly, as they strap a mask onto Poe's face and begin pumping oxygen through it; watches as dermal repair scanners are held over the gaping wound in Poe's chest and a bag of blood is attached via a clear tube and a hypodermic needle to Poe's arm. 

He doesn't bother telling them it's too late. They'll know soon enough. 

But they don't stop. Long seconds tick by and they keep working, and Finn begins to understand they aren't just working aimlessly or out of blind desperation. There is purpose and precision to their movements. He watches, confused, refusing to acknowledge the horrible, desperate hope that is batting its wings like a caged creature deep inside his breast. He's never seen this before and he doesn't understand. Poe's heart has stopped, his breath has stilled, and he is _gone_. 

Isn't he? 

"Got a rhythm!" The shout bounces off Finn's ears, then reverberates through his head for several seconds before he can find a meaning to it. 

Then he has to be restrained again, as he launches himself forward, trying to see Poe, to understand what it is they're saying. 

He doesn't get close, not very, but he gets close enough to hear the most beautiful sound he's ever heard in his life: a low, faint, pained moan coming from behind the oxygen mask. 

Poe is alive. Poe is _alive._

Finn laughs. Then he cries. 

Then the world goes black. 

* * *

Finn has seen death before, and this isn't it. 

The medical bay is quiet, but it is late, so that is unsurprising. They let him stay because, well, they couldn't really stop him, and the General finally left standing orders that Finn could remain at Poe's side for as long as he wanted. 

Which, great. Finn had planted himself next to Poe's bed and hasn't moved in three days except to grab a shower once, yesterday morning. They've finally moved a bed over next to Poe's so Finn can get some rest but he barely uses it, and when he does, he reaches across the narrow gap and laces his fingers with Poe's so he'll wake up if the pilot needs him. 

Poe hasn't woken up yet, but Finn's been assured it will happen. 

It's called resuscitation, and Finn had never heard of it because the First Order had never bothered with it, but apparently gone is not always so gone. If the injured person is reached quickly enough, it is possible to bring them back. It is a miracle that Finn never knew existed, but then, Poe has shown him a lot of those; it only seems fitting he learns this one from him as well. Finn spends the long, quiet hours in the infirmary listening to Poe's heartbeat registering on the monitors and reading about other miracles he never knew existed. 

He is reading when Poe wakes up. The holopad falls to the floor with an indignant clatter as Finn jumps to his feet and leans over the bed, watching Poe's face as the pilot sighs again and his brows crease and his lips part on an almost-moan. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, and then his eyes open--slow, and only to half-mast, but there is definitely a sliver of brown and a quirk of recognition when the smile tugs at one corner of Poe's lips. 

"Hey, buddy," he slurs, and Finn knows it's not raining this time because they're deep in the resistance bunker but Poe doesn't seem to mind. 

"Hey," he whispers, grabbing Poe's hand and squeezing it tight. 

Poe squeezes back. Finn watches him as he drifts back to sleep, then leans in and presses a kiss to Poe's brow. 

Finn has seen death before. But now, for the first time ever, he has seen something new. 

He has seen death defeated.

* * *


End file.
